Sylvia Sterling: Venison & Tempranillo (Marquez de Caceres, Rioja – Reserve 2010)
“Sylvia, guess what?” My brother Arnie was calling from Idaho, which was his home base.
“I only need to glance at the calendar to see that it’s time for your annual visit to Hingham. You get homesick and are looking for someone to cook your venison.”
“You got it. You can expect the meat delivered tomorrow and I butchered it to perfection this time.”
“You’ve been doing this for 15-years so I think you should have it figured out by now. Last time. I served it with a Syrah so I’ll change it up this time. I’ve been eyeing some Tempranillo from one of my favorite purveyors.”
“I trust you Sylvia. Check with the other Sterling’s to see who might be available.”
“I’ll see who’s about. Have you ever considered coming to Boston during the holidays because that’s the time of year for family dinners?”
“Since when have I done stuff that everyone else does? By the way, can I crash at your place?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way Arnie. Text me your flight info so I know when to expect you and since you don’t have to pay for a hotel room, I assume you’ll be paying for the vino?”
“Gotta run Syl. See ya soon.” Arnie hung up as he avoided my question. Things with my brother never changed.
I could count on my Mother and two brothers to make themselves available but I liked round numbers so I decided to invite Dale from the wine shop. I knew him from being a customer and it didn’t hurt that I had a crush on the man and he wore no wedding ring. Of course, I would make the idea seem impromptu; I’d cast the line and see if he nibbled on the bait.
****
“Hey Dale. My brother is coming to town for his annual venison feast. He ships me the tenderloin medallions and he leaves the wine pairing up to me. Do you have time to make some suggestions?” I pretended that I had no clue about what I wanted.
“Shop’s empty at this hour so let’s take a look. I’m not much for wild game but I have some ideas.”
Not much for wild game? That was a hell of a disappointment. “Last year I poured Syrah, which went over well but I want to try something different.”
“Follow me.” Dale led me to the Tempranillo’s as I had expected. “Tell me if this is too pricey for ya. It’s a 2011 Lan and one of my favorites.”
“I’m paying for it so $50 is a little steep. I like to send a bottle home with my brother, who’s bringing the meat so I’m going to require ½ case. I see that Marquez de Caceres from Rioja, Spain.”
“You read my mind Sylvia. It’s a 2010 and will be drinkable at it’s peak through 2022. I’ve been meaning to nab a few bottles for my private stash. It’s bold but not so much that it will compete with the meat. It should be a nice compliment.”
I saw my chance to throw Dale an invite. “I’ll take your advice and take six bottles. I have room for one more at my table if you’d like to join us. My family is never boring and it’ll give you a chance to sample the wine.” Before he could turn me down because of the game, I offered a solution. “I forgot that you don’t eat wild game. Mine might change your mind and I’ll keep something safe as a back-up if you want.”
“Sounds fantastic Sylvia. What should I bring?”
“Just yourself. My Mother would be crestfallen if she wasn’t assigned dessert. I’ll text you the details. I hope you’re not working Friday night.”
“I’ll be there. Looking forward to getting to know you as more than just a customer.”
I floated out to my car as Dale followed me with my wine purchase.
I received the venison medallions, which Arnie had frozen fresh and vacuum-sealed. He had been sending meat for years and had it down to a science. We had come a long way as he used to pack it untrimmed in Ziploc bags and I’d pick up a box of red from the grocery. I was 20-something and thought I was an adult. Arnie arrived the day before our dinner and he helped in the kitchen so I could greet the guests. We were a close family so greeting meant giving each other hugs. I introduced everyone to Dale and then kicked my brother out of the kitchen so I could serve dinner.
“Just pass the platter guys. We’ll start with the wine which I’ll describe as we fill our plates. I should note that Dale is an expert and owns Sip, which is where I buy my wine. What we have here is a Tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain. It’s a 2010 vintage Marquez de Caceres. It’s earthy with hints of vanilla. To the nose, it has notes of boysenberry and cherry. I threw pomegranate seeds over the venison as a playful touch.”
“It’s more balanced than other Rioja’s I’ve had,” my Mother commented.
Dale jumped in. “Perhaps they weren’t a Tempranillo. The wine is delightful Sylvia but I don’t think there’s a thing that I can drink to mask the flavor of wild game.”
I turned the ruby red shade of the wine.
“No offense. Sorry, I told you I didn’t eat venison. I’m so relaxed that my comments are flowing freely. I should have kept my mouth shut and on a more positive note, these fingerling potatoes are awesome.” Everyone laughed, me included.
“Back to the wine, if I may. It’s just bold enough to pair with the venison with clever notes of pepper and licorice,” Arnie added.
“I propose a toast. To Arnie for braving the elements to bring us our meal tonight and to Dale for helping me, as always, with my pairing.” I said. My dinner was a success, despite Dale’s distaste for the meat and I considered it my first date with the wine merchant.
